By The Numbers
by Ridley C. James
Summary: MacGyver 2016. Alternate scene for episode 9: Chisel. When Jack is shot, Mac must find a way to explain to his partner that it's possible, although highly improbable, for a guy to have two best friends.


By the Numbers

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: This is an alternate scene for Episode 9: Chisel. I couldn't help but need a little bit more out of this episode and for Mac to have the chance to set some things straight. Supernatural readers I have a new story coming up. I promise I have not abandoned the boys.

RCJ

Angus MacGyver's grandfather had always been a man of few words. There were however three subjects he loved to talk about: basketball, astronomy, and probability theory. It had seemed a weird combination, especially to a twelve-year-old Mac who had just been dumped on the old man's doorstep, but Mac's grandfather could link his three favorite topics to almost any situation and often did. It didn't take Mac long to become well-versed in each area, especially the math.

Although not necessarily a religious man, Mac's grandfather was fond of saying that God had created the world using beautiful mathematics so if a person knew what was good for him, he'd take careful note of the numbers. That could be anything from the digits on a score board or the intricacies of a high school algebra problem, to a calculation of stellar distances measured in parsecs. Mac's grandfather was most passionate about probability and he longed to pass his love of the subject on to his grandson.

There was only one problem. Mac already considered himself a pretty good student of chance. He'd learned early on that random phenomena seemed to have it out for him. Losing his mom and being abandoned by his dad had done a number of its own on Mac's psyche. He didn't like random. He didn't want to consider the unquantifiable factors. In fact, precision and predictability were far preferable. Mac discovered very quickly that he liked to harness numbers, to fit them into nice, neat algorithms and formulas that provided irrefutable product. And just like that Mac's love of science was born.

A good chemical equation provided an outcome one was expecting, an ending that was planned. The guy with the glass beakers and the goggles controlled the variables. Mac liked control. He longed for consistency. That's why he chose to work a boring physics problem to discover how many inches of paper it would take to stop a bullet, instead of just guessing and letting Jack Dalton fire a couple of rounds into a proposed ream to see if Mac was right. In any other situation when lives were not on the line and time not of the essence, Jack would have probably enjoyed such an experiment, but Mac knew when the pressure was on the physics always came through.

Except when it didn't.

Physics could account for a lot of things, but despite Mac's best efforts, science didn't hold all the cards. Take for instance Mac's plan for him and his partner, Jack to rescue the outnumbered and outgunned marines from their position trying to hold the gate of the Latvian embassy. In theory it was doable. Mac had created substantial shields to get them to the truck they would use to then make it to the gate. He could account for distance and the speed of the truck, but Mac couldn't exactly figure in the randomness of the spray of gunfire that would shower the driver's side of the vehicle. Nor could Mac successfully predict with any likelihood that one haphazard bullet would make it through his partner's door panel to pass through one inch space on Jack's lower right abdomen not protected by Kevlar.

Sure, Mac's grandfather could have hypothesized a pretty good likelihood of one or both of them getting shot considering the amount of fire power, and the ground they would have to cover unprotected. The possible outcome might have given Mac reason to pause. It might have had him reconsidering the plan all together. But where would that have left the marines? Doubt was a wrench Mac didn't need thrown into his well-oiled machine. So Angus MacGyver chose to ignore the odds.

Jack could have had a point earlier when he said ignorance was survival. Mac was willing to admit he might have walked through life with one big blinder on. Laser-like focus was both a gift and a curse. It allowed Mac to figure out impossible problems while in the throes of any number of chaotic situations, but it could also keep him so engrossed on one crisis that he missed other certain catastrophe all together. Distraction was dangerous in his line of work, especially to those who depended on him most. A few months ago, it had been Mac's desperate need to understand how Nikki had fooled him so completely that battled with his concentration, and now it was the disaster with Bozer that threatened to throw him off his game. Mac refused to believe it had merely been bad luck that got Jack hurt.

He was ashamed to admit he hadn't even noticed anything was wrong at first. Mac didn't catch the way Jack seemed to be struggling with the door as they covered the marines on their dash back for the relative safety of the embassy or the fact he cursed a blue streak when they finally made it inside and used the heavy shields Mac had fashioned to gird the entranceway. In Mac's defense, they were being pelted with bullets at the time and Jack's foul mouth tended to make an appearance during any life and death situation.

One of the marines caught it. He'd hung back as the rest of his unit spread out to check the dire circumstances for themselves. The guy looked younger than Mac, but he was sharp enough to see what Mac hadn't.

"I think you took a round, brother." The soldier pointed to Jack. "Just below the vest."

Ambassador Roberts and her aid chose that moment to join them in them corridor. Mac felt frozen in place, still not processing what the marine had meant. American Heavyweight champion Joe Louis once said, "Everyone has a plan until they've been hit." Mac knew exactly what the man meant as soon as he heard Jack's sharp inhale of breath.

"Well, damn." Jack was holding his side, looking almost as shocked at the revelation he'd been wounded as Mac felt.

"Oh my God, you're bleeding," Ambassador Roberts was apparently more with it than Mac as well. She took a faltering step towards Jack, looking unsure of what to do.

"I'm good, it's okay." Jack waved off the concern, giving the woman one of his trade mark 'nothing can hurt me' grins. The fact his hand was now covered in blood ruined the good try.

"Jack." Mac forced his legs to move, reaching for his partner just as the older agent wavered.

"Dude, I'm fine." Jack tried giving Mac a different smile. It was one Mac had seen only a handful of times before, but recognized instantly. It was the 'I'm saying whatever I need to say so the kid doesn't lose his shit' grin. Mac knew his friend intended it to be comforting. It was anything but. Instead it drove a blade of panic through Mac's chest, exactly like it had that first time Jack had attempted it in Cairo.

"Sure you are." Mac reached for his partner just as Jack's legs betrayed him. The helpful Marine stepped forward too, both of them easing Jack to the ground.

"Well this sucks," Jack hissed, his hand coming back to his side.

"There's your talent for understatement." Mac resisted rolling his eyes. He glanced up at Ambassador Roberts. "We need a first aid kit. Now."

"The medical supplies are upstairs," Robert's aid informed them.

"We'll get it," the ambassador assured.

Once the women had gone, Mac looked at the marine on the other side of Jack. His name patch read Ramsey. "Can you help me get this vest off?"

"Yes, sir."

"I can do it myself," Jack told them.

"Don't move." Mac glared at his friend. "We don't know how bad it is."

"It's a freaking flesh wound, Mac," Jack said as Ramsey carefully tore open the Velcro holding the Kevlar in place. "I think it just grazed me."

"I'll be the judge of that." Mac took over for Ramsey, freeing Jack from the vest. He ignored his friend's pained grimace, trying to reclaim his ability to zero in on one task at a time. Now was most definitely not the time to be distracted.

"You're not a medic." Jack flinched when Mac tore the bottom of his shirt to get a better look at what they were dealing with.

"Thanks to you I've had some experience with bullet wounds." Mac was relieved to find a through and through. The exit although bleeding steadily wasn't as bad as it could have been. Still, blood loss would be an issue. Adults had approximately five liters of blood. As blood loss increased physiological changes became prominent. Shock would set in and things could go south quickly. Mac looked over to Ramsey where the young marine was still hovering on the other side of Jack. "What about you, Ramsey? You or any of your team medics?"

Mac had been pretty sure he wouldn't get so lucky but he was still disappointed with Ramsey's 'no, sir'.

"We're all infantry assault."

"I was Delta Force." Jack nodded to Mac. "Army EOD."

Ramsey whistled. "Damn, you D-boys are mad tough."

"But they're not bullet proof," Mac said before Jack could respond. Mac had worked with enough Delta Force operators and their Navy counterparts, Seal Team Six, in Afghanistan ops to understand how their mind worked. They were crazy brave, loyal to a fault and cocky enough to think they could cheat death. Jack was a prime example.

"Ignore my partner," Jack told Ramsey. "He gets cranky when I'm bleeding."

"Maybe you should rejoin your unit," Mac gestured with his chin toward the corridor where the other marines had gone to help reinforce the windows. He'd just as soon deal with Jack without a star-struck audience, especially if Ramsey couldn't offer any expertise. "Tell them we'll regroup as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir." Ramsey nodded to Jack as he stood. "Hang tough, brother."

"You know it."

"Where the fuck is Roberts with that kit?" Mac glanced around, looking for something else he might use as a pressure bandage if the ambassador didn't soon make it back.

"Hey." Jack gripped his wrist, reclaiming his attention. "Watch the language, Dude."

"Are you kidding me?" Mac shook his head. "You realize I've heard every four letter word known to civilization and a handful I'm sure no civilized man has thought to say come out of your mouth, right?"

"Yeah, well, you're not me." It was said with such earnest simplicity that Mac almost laughed. "We both know crude language is a sign of crappy intelligence, so for you to swear is like some honking big juxtaposition. Besides, you only go all foul-mouthed and four-lettered when you think something really bad is going to happen."

"Seriously?" Now Mac did laugh, but it held no humor. "We're in an embassy under siege, out-manned, out-gunned and with no back-up due for hours. You've just been shot. Stage one of shock can start to occur with less than a 15% loss of blood volume! Do you know how quickly that can happen?"

Jack tilted his head, frowned. "No but I'm pretty sure you could use your trusty dry erase board and some mathematical formula and tell me."

Mac narrowed his gaze at Jack. They didn't have time for jokes or sarcasm. "My point is that something really bad has already happened, Jack."

"I'm not talking about every day kind of bad." Jack let Mac's wrist go, but kept his gaze locked with the younger agent. "We do out-gunned and out-manned half the damn time, Dude. I'm talking about the whole 'I'm about to lose someone else' kind of bad. I can see it written all over your face. That's not going to happen with Bozer and it's not going to happen with me, at least not today."

Mac was spared a response by Ambassador Roberts who came running down the hall with the kit and a blanket in her arms. "I'm sorry it took so long. How is he?"

"I'm fine," Jack said, his gaze staying on Mac.

"Thanks," Mac took the kit from the ambassador, setting the blanket aside. He knew better than to even suggest Jack use it although it could come in handy later if shock did become an issue.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Roberts asked.

"Can you go check in with Riley on the ETA of our reinforcements. Tell her to make sure they bring a medic."

"I can do that." She gave Jack one last sympathetic look before turning to go again.

"Dude, would you stop freaking out. You know I've had worse, like that time in …"

"Don't you dare say it." Mac pointed a finger at Jack before opening the kit and pulling out two packs of sterile gauze and a long stretch bandage. "You should have never mentioned that mission in the first place."

"Are you talking about Cairo?"

"Jack," Mac warned, as he tore open the sterile guaze.

"You seriously aren't blaming me mentioning Cairo on my getting shot because this gig had already gone south before…Ow!"

"Sorry." Mac might have pressed a little harder than necessary on the bandage. He wasn't blaming Jack for anything. This one was all on him and random chance.

"No you're not," Jack accused. "You did that on purpose."

"I thought you were fine." Mac unwound a roll gauze, looking up at his partner. "All good, remember?"

"I am," Jack leaned forward, allowing Mac to wind the stretch bandage around his waist. "It doesn't mean it still doesn't hurt like hell."

"I'm sorry," Mac said sincerely this time. He was more frustrated at himself and his grandfather's beloved probability theory than he was mad at Jack. "I'm almost finished."

"Good, because that gunfire isn't slowing down. We need another one of your brilliant plans."

Mac could hear more rounds breaking through their baricades. He wished he had time to disinfect Jack's wound, instead of just packing it to stop the bleeding but there were bigger issues at hand. As much as he hated to admit it, Jack was right about him having had a lot worse, and right now they had more imminent dangers than a through and through GSW. Quick field triage would have to do, at least until Mac could figure a way out of their current predicament.

If nothing else, this new variable, one he hadn't introduced, definitely gave him renewed incentive, as if the dozen or so innocent lives he'd put in jeaopardy by choosing to run to the embassy hadn't been enough. There was nothing like literally having the blood of someone you loved on your hands to give a guy perspective. Somehow California and all of Mac's problems there with Bozer suddenly seemed trivial in comparison.

"It's good, Dude." Jack's voice had softened and when Mac looked up from his work, his partner was staring at him as if he could read Mac's thoughts. "I'm really okay."

"Make sure you stay that way." Mac tied off the bandage, pulled Jack's shirt down over it the best he could. "Because I can't do my thing if I'm worried about losing you every minute."

"Yeah," Jack winced as he touched his side. "I know the feeling."

"I have an idea for some firepower, but I'm going to need your help." Mac stood up and offered Jack a hand.

Jack gripped his forearm and together they got him to his feet. "Let's make it happen."

"We're going to need cleaning supplies." Mac waited until he was sure Jack was steady before letting him go. He had to do what he did best-compartmentalize. It was the only way he was going to get them out of this.

"As long as I don't have to scrub any floors, Dude." Jack wrapped an arm around his side, offering Mac another grin. "Trust me. I won't complain."

Jack was true to his word. He didn't mention the pain Mac knew he had to be in during any of the work they put in to building a homemade cannon and grenades. He stayed on his feet, and coherent, except for when Mac's rigged explosion sent them both careening. Jack made repelling down the embassy wall look like child's play and he, along with Ramsey, the super Marine, even saved Mac's ass, taking out the gunmen who got the drop on Mac when he was trying to secure the vehicles needed to get them out of the compound before the wrong kind of reinforcements arrived.

Adrenaline and sheer stubbornness was an amazing combination. Mac marveled at the fact it kept Jack going all the way on their mad dash to the air strip where they met up with the Marine support promised. Jack made it out of the truck, managed to say something suave and heroic to Ambassador Roberts, all while keeping a shit-eating grin on his face. He even went to shake hands with Ramsey and the other Marines before dropping like a rock at their feet.

Mac had been talking to Thornton on the Sat. phone, relaying as much detail as he could and informing her of their flight plan. He'd been watching his partner, but had had been too far away to stop what he knew was going to happen.

"Here." Mac shoved the phone at Riley, not giving their computer guru a chance to ask what was going on. They hadn't exactly had a chance to tell her Jack was wounded.

"He's out cold," Ramsey was knelt beside Jack, but moved when Mac showed up. "I can't believe he lasted as long as he did."

Mac let out a sigh of relief when a strong, although slightly fast pulse greeted him when he pressed his fingers against Jack's neck. He glanced up at Ramsey and forced a smile he didn't feel. "Those D-boys are mad tough."

There was a rousing round of Oo-rah's and then the medics were there. Mac hovered just out of their way as they worked on his partner, leaving Riley the task of saying their goodbyes and wrapping up. He reasoned it was good training for her, unwilling to be distracted by diplomacy either way. Thornton could be pissed, Mac was where he needed to be, and planned to stay by Jack until they were safely back home.

Even after his partner came to, and the medics assured Mac that Jack's condition was not critical, Mac refused to abandon his post. Blood loss and dehydration were behind the loss of consciousness and they even declared Jack fit to fly as long as he kept the I.V. and made a hospital run as soon as they were stateside. Mac wanted to believe them. He tried to convince himself that the worst was over and they had survived and were both in so much better shape than they had been after Cairo, but he couldn't quite seem to shut up the little voice in his head that kept up running commentary about all the things that could have gone wrong, all the things he hadn't managed to control.

"Dude, are you going to stare at me the whole way back?" Jack cracked one eye open, smirked at Mac. He'd insisted on staying upright, mostly, stretching out across two of the seats in the back of the plane. Mac knew what battles to pick with Jack, so he'd rigged the I.V. pole to one of the arm rests, plied his partner with pillows and a blanket and set up watch in the adjacent row of seats. " I know I'm pretty, but…"

"Actually you look terrible." Technically Jack looked much better than he did upon take-off, but Mac wasn't going to tell him that. The pint of blood he'd gotten and the I.V. had brought the color back to his face, but he still looked a little too ghost-like for Mac's liking. "You should still be asleep."

"All the more reason for you to read one of your books or go watch a movie with Riley. If you're lucky it won't be X-men."

"I've been thinking," Mac said, taking the seat directly across from Jack now that his partner was awake.

"Don't you ever get tired of that," Jack groaned. "Do I even want to know, because if you say Nikki or Bozer I might have to share some of my sleepy time pills with you."

"I've been thinking about my granddad and probability theory."

"Okay." Jack straightened some, wincing as he shifted the pillow behind him. "That's at least something different. I'll try not to lose consciousness."

Mac knew for a fact that Jack would listen to whatever rambling diatribe he insisted on, but he'd let friend play gruff if it made him feel better. "Did I ever tell you my grandfather was the one who got me interested in astronomy?"

Jack yawned. "The old guy was into the zodiac?"

"Cute." Mac was glad Jack felt better enough to tease him, but he was trying to have a serious conversation. There were a few things he needed to get straight with Jack before they made it back to California.

Jack grinned. "I think I do recall you mentioning the whole astronomy thing on one of the many impromptu summer star-gazing sessions on your deck."

"I'm surprised you remember anything from those times because all you and Bozer did was drink beer and make fun of my attempts to educate you on the intricacies of the night sky."

"Dude, we had to have some fun. It's not like you let us touch your telescope."

"Because it's not a toy. It's a finely tuned scientific instrument."

"That your grandfather gave you for your eighteenth birthday." Jack gave Mac a satisfied smirk. "See, I do listen to you, Bro. I can even point out the major constellations. It's scored me points with the ladies on several occasions."

Mac rolled his eyes. "I'm sure my granddad would be glad to know all his vast years of teaching me paid off in some small way."

"How do you know he wasn't teaching you about the stars to help increase _your_ luck with the girls. The old guy was probably trying to up your sad game."

"He used to make me calculate the distance of the Proxima Centauri and the Alpha Centauri system in both light years and astronomical units using parallax. Trust me there is nothing romantic about that."

"Did he also teach you how to dress, because now I'm thinking that would make a whole lot of sense."

"My clothes are fine and I'm trying to have a moment with you here."

"You realize I'm on some heavy duty pain meds, right." Jack gave another jaw-cracking yawn and then shook his head. "I have a hard time following some of your moments on a good day. I have no idea what parralux is."

"It's parallax and it's not important." Mac leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I know you've seen a shooting star."

"Thanks to the meteor shower viewing party my geeky partner put on, yes. I also know shooting stars, also known as falling stars really have nothing to do with stars." Jack frowned. "Just like this conversation. What's going on with you, Mac? Is this about me getting shot, because that was not on you and…"

"This isn't about you getting shot, well, not exactly anyway." Mac ran a hand through his hair, looked a Jack.

"Okay," Jack nodded, still looking confused, and maybe a little bit concerned.

"I was obsessed with proving my granddad's probability theory about shooting stars wrong." Mac knew he was getting about his point in a very round-about manner, but he wanted to illustrate something to Jack in a way that left no room for misinterpretations. Mac was smart enough to know he wasn't exactly great when it came to talking about how he felt. It was funny that both Bozer and Jack had no problem expressing sentiment, easily telling Mac they loved him and never seeming to feel even one bit self-conscious about it, but Mac's father and even his grandfather had not been such men. Mac guessed he inherited their stumbling ways. "He swore by all accounts that it was statistically unlikely, highly improbable in fact, that outside of a meteor shower event a viewer would see more than one shooting star in a thirty- minute time interval."

"And you were a kid just hankering for some extra wishes?" Jack asked.

"No, basically I just wanted to beat the odds."

Jack's mouth twitched. "That sounds just like you."

"I guess my mom dying and my dad leaving left me thinking I was meant to be screwed over by the numbers. I mean most kids had two parents, or at least one, but I didn't have any. And just once I wanted to get more than my fair share."

"Did it ever work?"

Mac shook his head. "I spent night after night in the desert, hoping to eradicate light pollution, but not once did I get more than one falling star in a thirty-minute window. My granddad's probability theory held true."

"That sucks, Bro."

"That is until I met you."

"Me?" Jack frowned. "I thought I was following pretty well, but now I'm not sure I didn't black out for a minute."

"You see, Bozer was a godsend when I was a kid. He was there for me when my dad left, when I didn't have anybody I thought I could count on. Bozer saved my life a hundred different ways. Helped make me the person I am today."

"I know all of this, Dude. Bozer had your back," Jack nodded. "I was joking you about being jealous of him. I'm more grateful to the man than you'll ever know."

"But then I met you," Mac continued, knowing that if he stopped now he'd lose his nerve. There wasn't always a second chance to say the things you needed to say. "You saved my life that first day. Then again and again. The more we worked together, you began to take up all this space that Bozer hadn't filled, space I didn't even know was there. You gave me a glimpse of an entirely different person, one I had no idea I could become."

Jack started to grin. "So this is your way of telling me I complete you."

"What I'm trying to say," Mac gave Jack a look he hoped conveyed a silent 'shut-up and let me finish. "Is that a person might get one best friend during his life, the kind that would fall on a grenade or give you a kidney, but he rarely if ever gets two in that same interval span. When you showed up, for the first time, chance was on my side. I beat the odds. By the numbers alone, I'd say that makes me one hell of a lucky guy."

Jack stared at him for a long moment. "Did you really just spend like twenty minutes to tell me I'm your best friend, too."

"Well, when you say it like that…"

"Because I already knew that, Kid."

"You did?"

"You and Boze go way back. He's your buddy. And like I said I appreciate that. But, Mac, I'm your partner, your brother. Our friendship was forged in the heat of battle. Literally. We face out-gunned, out-manned situations for a living. It doesn't mean our friendship is any better than the one you spent years building with Bozer, it just means it serves a different purpose."

Mac swallowed hard, emboldened by the events of the last few days that had nearly robbed him of the two people he cared about most. "So, you know I love you both, right."

Jack's grin had doubled in size and for the first time since he was shot, Mac's partner looked like he was going to be just fine. "Dude, I have no doubt about where I stand in your life, so please would you just stop being such a girl."

"Me? A girl?" Mac shook his head. Maybe Jack was right about the brother thing because he could push Mac's buttons like no other. "I'm not the guy who fainted in front of a unit of Marines."

"I didn't faint," Jack proclaimed, indignantly. "I succumbed to blood loss. That's totally different."

"Tell that to Ramsey and his buddies." Mac kept a straight face, delighting in the torment. "So much for Delta Force cred."

"Why? Did he say something?"

"Nothing you should worry about while you're recuperating." Mac made to stand up, enjoying the fact his best friend's cocky smirk had completely disappeared.

"Where were you?" Jack asked. "So much for having my back."

"Get some sleep, Buddy." Mac grinned, knowing him and his partner were good. "I think I'll go watch that movie with Riley after all. I love X-men."

The end…for now.


End file.
